


Shipping War

by Rei382



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, cruise fic, light angst in the ending, light crack in the beginning, non-established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22132183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rei382/pseuds/Rei382
Summary: The Ministry has taken everyone on a bonus Team Cruise as a reward for their hard work. Too bad someone made a mistake while creating the rooming list...
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 82
Collections: Drarropoly 2.0 - A Drarry Game/Fest





	Shipping War

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the prompt "Harry and Draco are together on a cruise - Not Established Relationship".  
> Also thanks Ladderofyears for the awesome Beta work!!

This  _ must _ be a mistake.

Harry looks at the list again. No. He didn’t read it wrong the first time. He confirms and re-confirms but there’s no doubt. His name is written there, black on light-parchment color, and in the cube right next to it, also in black and unmistaken, Draco Malfoy. He probably should’ve looked at it before boarding the damn boat, but, how could he have known?! And now… now it is probably too late. Who will take Malfoy to be their cabin-mate? No one. Harry knew it. Not only is Malfoy one of the most hated names in the Wizarding World, even now, seven years after the Great War, but Malfoy doesn't really try to make people like him. He is still the git he had been at Hogwarts.

But really… how can Harry share a cabin with him? And how did the person assigning rooms miss the fact that Harry was probably the  _ last _ person who should share a room with him? After everything that had happened, after the trials… No. This can’t be. This cruise is supposed to be  _ fun _ . It’s supposed to be a reward for a whole year of good work. Sharing his cabin with Malfoy, out of all people, will make this into a bloody nightmare.

He makes his decision and even though he knows the chances are slim to non-existent, he turns and walks back to the bridge to the cruise ship and pauses only when he reaches the person who gave him the list. He forces himself to smile politely.

“Uh… Mr. Barker, I, uh, think there’s a mistake on the list,” he says.

Mr. Barker, a kind-looking, burly-looking wizard looks at him. “Mr. Potter! Are you sure? Let me see the note I gave you,” he says, and reaches over to get the note from Harry, and Harry gladly hands it over. He watches as Mr. Barker studies the note Harry gave him with his room number, then the list, then Harry’s face. “No, Mr. Potter. This is accurate.”

“But… uh…” Harry feels awkward. But he’s already made the decision to complain; he might just as well go through with this. “I can’t share a room with Malfoy. You know, we have history – “

“Hmm,” Mr. Barker looks thoughtful. “I see… Someone might’ve made a mistake when assigning rooms, but now all the rooms are set. I don’t think it’s possible to change at this point, Harry. Sorry. If you find someone who’d switch with you then you definitely can, but…”

Harry sighs. It was predictable. “Yes, I understand. Thank you, Mr. Barker,” he says, and, feeling defeated and anxious, he continues his way deeper into the ship.

He is almost through the entrance door when behind him he suddenly hears a familiar voice. “No! You must be kidding me!”

He sighs again. This is going to be awful, he knows it. He glances at the entry hall, sees the bar at the distant corner. At least there is alcohol in this place.

*

He stands at the door. Stands and stares, gapes with his mouth open. As if things are not bad enough. How could Mr. Barker fuck up  _ this _ bad?

“Move out of the way, Potter. It’s just a room, and even if you’re happy staying outside of it, I don’t, and I want to place my luggage and –  _ bloody hell what the fuck is this?!”  _ Harry feels, probably for the first time ever, sympathy with Malfoy’s sentiment. That was why he was standing in front of the cabin door, gaping like an idiot at the room. Getting stuck with Malfoy as his cabin partner was one thing. But –

“Why is there only one bed?!”

Harry frowns. Why the bloody hell should he know? “I don’t know Malfoy, it’s not like I asked for this!”

Malfoy turns his head to glare at him. “I didn’t ask for this either. I am  _ not _ going to share a room with you, let alone a  _ bed! _ ”

“Oh trust me Malfoy, I’m not thrilled about any of this either, but what are we going to do?”

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do – I’m going to complain!”

“I already tried, there’s nothing we can do.”

“So what is  _ your _ plan, Potter? Just suffer through it?”

“No – I –“ Harry starts, but then he has an idea. “We could try to separate the bed with magic.”

Malfoy lets out an exasperated sigh. “No, Potter. Have you never been on any of these cruise ships? You can’t change anything here with magic. Look,” he takes out his wand, points it at the offending king-size bed that stands at the center of the cabin. “Separatum!” he calls, and his wand creates some sparks which surround the bed – but nothing else happens. 

“See? They protect the stuff here from being modified by magic, in case people try to hex stuff here and ruin it.”

Well, that doesn’t help their situation.

“I’m going to complain. You – you don’t touch my bed, you understand?” and with that, Malfoy places his luggage in the room and leaves.

Great. And what exactly is Harry supposed to do?

*

Harry frowns at Ron’s laughter. “You have  _ what _ ?!”

“It is not funny, Ron. Not only I have to share the cabin with Malfoy, I have to share my  _ bed _ with him, too!”

This, somehow, makes Ron laugh even harder. Some friends Harry has. “Yes, I heard. Bloody hilarious, mate!” But it does not amuse Harry. He takes a sip from his drink ( _ Spearmint Snake _ , because damn, he needs something  _ strong _ ) and glares. At his drink, at the bar, at Ron. At the blond, looking equally displeased at the other side of the bar.

It is not like they didn’t try. They did, both of them. But no amount of pleas, yells, or threats helped them. There are no available rooms. The whole bloody ship is fully occupied. There are no people they can switch with. Not even Ron; Harry tried, but his so-called friend just said that he’d rather sleep on the floor on the deck than stay in the same bed as Draco Malfoy. Not that Harry blames him for that, but it’s really hard not to be mad when  _ he’s _ the one stuck sharing a bed with the git.

“Maybe  _ I _ should just sleep on the floor…” Harry muses, exasperated, which earns him another laugh from Ron.

“Oh, good to know you’ve reached the right conclusion yourself.”

The new voice, painfully familiar and arrogant as always, makes both Harry and Ron look up from their drinks to look at Malfoy who somehow made his way towards them. His cheeks, usually unhealthily pale, have a light rose colour to them, and the usual sneer that always decorates his face is there now, too. Harry frowns. He will have to suffer this asshole the entire night; why did he have to show up in front of him now, too?

“Excuse me?”

“Sleeping on the floor. I came here to suggest that, since it seems that we have no options left but sharing the cabin. I have zero intentions of sharing my  _ bed _ with you, too. I am glad I don’t have to argue with you about sleeping on the floor.”

Harry’s frown deepens as rage rises inside him. The egoistic, entitled, arrogant git! “I am  _ not _ going to sleep on the floor while you’re sleeping like a king on the only bed in the room, Malfoy.”

“Good, good, Harry. You keep up your stand!” Roy cheers next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder in encouragement.

Malfoy’s eyebrow arch up. “Do you suggest I sleep on the floor, then? Because that idea is so ridiculous that – “

“That, what, Malfoy?”

“That even as a joke it bloody sucks.”

“Well, looks like we’re in a pinch, because to  _ me _ , the idea of  _ me _ sleeping on the floor is laughable!”

“Wanna duel for that?”

“Woah, woah, hold on!” Suddenly Ron’s not in his seat anymore, and instead, he stands between Harry and Malfoy – both having their wands draw out and ready to cast a spell. “I don’t think we’re allowed to duel in here – it’s supposed to be – er – a fun excursion.”

Harry looks at his friend. He knows he’s right, he does, but… but how can he just let Malfoy get his way?

“Do you two  _ want _ to get kicked off the cruise?”

Ron has a point. Of course he does. Is this issue worth getting kicked off?

“I am  _ not _ going to sleep on the floor, and you stay out of it,  _ Weasel _ .”

Oh, bloody hell. “Fine! Whatever,” Harry says. “I’ll sleep on the bloody floor. Will probably be more comfortable than sharing a bed with  _ you _ .”

Malfoy has the most annoying smirk on his face as he puts his wand away. “Very true, Potter.”

*

The floor is not comfortable. No matter how many blankets (though he only could get a hold of additional two) he uses as mattress; but he’s Harry Potter, and he’d been through worse, at the Dursley’s. It’s not a nice feeling, but it is what it is, and eventually, he manages to fall asleep, not without constantly swearing at Malfoy in his head. He isn’t surprised, then, when he wakes up in the middle of the night. He groans, and tries to change his position in an attempt to get at least a  _ little bit _ comfortable, but it doesn’t help. He then realizes something. It wasn’t his own discomfort that woke him up, but sounds from vaguely above him. From the bed. Where Malfoy is supposedly sound asleep, lost in dreamland, because he got the  _ comfortable, big bed _ .

Annoyed, Harry sits up. The stupid asshole, not only did he force Harry to sleep on the floor, but he also –

His toxic train of thought cuts off when he is at eye level with the bed, and he sees that Malfoy is actually asleep. Asleep and sweaty, his forehead squinted. And he is – crying. Harry stares for a moment, unsure of what he is supposed to do. Malfoy is crying in his sleep, clearly having some sort of a nightmare. Should he go to him? Or ignore and pretend he never saw this?

Harry blinks. A part of him knows for sure, he should just pretend. He and Malfoy were far from being on friendly terms, let alone – let alone comfortable enough to comfort each other during nightmares. Would he feel comfortable with Malfoy seeing him going through one of his own nightmares which still haunt his sleep every now and then? No, he probably wouldn't. But then… he was also all too familiar with the feeling of having his sleep interrupted by night terrors. He never had anyone there to comfort him, to bring him back to reality and tell him that everything was okay. Wouldn’t Malfoy find it nice, even if it was someone he usually didn’t enjoy spending time with?

It’s not like they had never shared any moments. Harry hadn’t forgotten that Malfoy had risked his and his family’s life for Harry's own sake, back when the War took place. And he is sure that Malfoy didn’t forget that time they rode the broomstick together, when Harry saved him from the raging flames. Yes, they weren’t exactly friends, but are they still enemies? Harry isn’t sure.

And does it really matter?

Malfoy stirs in his sleep, letting out a soft sob. He says something, but Harry can’t make out the words – just that there is something heartbreakingly desperate about his tone. His heart clenches in his chest. The very least he should do is wake him up, right? Save him from whatever horror his mind makes him go through. Enemies or not, that would be the humane thing to do.

With this decision in his heart, Harry searches around for his glasses and puts them on before he pushes himself up from the floor. He takes the necessary step towards the bed. Looking from above, the sight of Malfoy is even more heart-breaking. He holds onto the blanket as if it were a life belt. His legs, covered in long black pants, are sticking out from under the covers. His head is bowed on the pillow, platinum-blond hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. He is shivering, but the room is rather warm. He looks to be on the verge of a panic attack and –

And Harry doesn’t want to handle that, or at least, that’s what he tells himself when he leans in and places a hand carefully on Malfoy’s shoulder. He gives a gentle shake. “Malfoy, wake up,” he says gently, but nothing happens. Frowning, he tries again, slightly harder. “Malfoy,” oh, screw it. “Draco, it’s just – ah!” without a warning Malfoy grabs a hold of him and pulls him, strong enough to make Harry fall onto the bed.

Shit.

He tries to balance himself, but every movement he makes just makes this look worse as he lays on his side on the bed, face inches away from Malfoy’s, so close that he feels his forced breaths fluttering over his skin, and his hand is still on the other man’s shoulder. He tries to move away, but the horrifying result is that Malfoy is pulling him closer. Harry finds himself wrapped in Malfoy’s arms, his knees, drawn up to his stomach, touching Harry’s stomach, and his head resting against Harry’s chest. Harry is petrified, unsure what on Earth he’s supposed to do now. This – this was not supposed to happen. He came here to wake Malfoy up and instead… instead he has Malfoy’s hands curling on the back of his shirt, holding tightly like he was keeping him alive. It feels awkward, and weird, and…

Strangely nice.

Panic rises in Harry, and he tries again. If he lets this go on… he isn’t sure what part of his body Malfoy will hex off when he wakes up, but he is sure it isn’t going to be a pleasant experience, and he does not want to find out. “Malfoy, wake up!” he tries again, louder this time. He shakes him again, and for a moment Harry is sure that he’s just getting deeper into trouble as Malfoy pulls on him a little bit more; but then he can see the light-coloured eyelashes flutter, the mouth twitching, and the next thing he knows is a pair of gray eyes, slightly swollen and definitely not completely torn from whatever horrors they saw in the dream, are staring directly at him. For a moment there is no recognition, just the look of remaining horror and a silent request for help; but in the split of a second it all changes. Malfoy narrows his eyes in anger. Harry sees the blush spreading on his paler-than-normal cheeks, and he knows he’s in trouble.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Potter?”

Harry blinks. A part of him wants to say the truth; to return the insult and tell Malfoy exactly how he came to be wrapped up in his arms like that, face so close he can almost feel their noses touching. That dark part of him wants to mock Malfoy for being so caught on in his nightmare that like a lost child, he grabbed onto the nearest thing and held onto him like a toddler holds onto their teddy bear. But he knows it’s wrong, and another, bigger part of him, the one that made him come here in the first place, knows that Malfoy’s reaction is only natural.

“You were having a nightmare,” he says instead. He isn’t sure that this response will make things better. He had never seen Malfoy in such a state; not Draco Malfoy who always portrayed himself as strong, as unbreakable. But that same Malfoy had also isolated himself all through their 6 th year; that same Malfoy had cried in the girls’ bathroom because he had felt so hopeless he could not cope. In a way, Harry had known it back then; but now, seeing it happening after such a long time, makes him understand. Underneath that façade a broken boy was hiding. Harry doesn’t know all of Malfoy’s life circumstances. But he knows that it wasn’t easy. Not like Harry’s; he didn’t have to go through sleeping in a cupboard, he didn’t have to hide the fact that he was a wizard and didn’t hear lies about how useless his parents were. But he had to hide something else that was  _ him _ . He heard a different kind of lies about his parents, lies that blew up in his face when he was still, technically, a child. He had gone through different threats than Harry did, but threats nonetheless, and, maybe, in a way, worse. How would Harry have reacted if a powerful wizard would have threatened his own family if he wouldn’t have cooperate? Harry isn’t sure, and he has no way of knowing, but a part of him knows that he would’ve done whatever he could to protect his loved ones.

Even if it meant hurting others.

“I tried to wake you up but you wouldn’t open your eyes. You were having a bad dream.” Harry takes a deep breath, seeing that the flame of hatred still isn’t dying out. “I couldn’t let you suffer like that.”

Malfoy scoffs. “What do you know about that? Everyone adores you. You didn’t lose everything you’ve ever had because of one stupid choice.”

“No, I didn’t,” Harry says. He notices how Malfoy doesn’t ease the hold on him, and that he isn’t moving away. He probably needs this more than he lets himself acknowledge. “But I had different nightmares. I know what you’re going through, even though our experiences are different. I know I wouldn’t want to be alone. I’ll leave you, if you want,” he says, and he sees the hesitation in Malfoy’s eyes. He can almost hear the wheels turning in his head as he thinks about Harry’s words. The embarrassment of being held by him, the comfort the presence of another human being brings.

They remain silent for a long moment. Nothing breaks the silence of the night outside of their own breathing: Harry’s tense about what reaction his words will bring, and Malfoy’s fast and shallow, a remnant from the anxiety the nightmare had brought him. Harry starts to move away, slowly, gently. “I will go back to my bed now,” he says, not even feeling bitter about calling the pile of blankets he laid on a ‘bed’. But before he can make any real progress in moving away, he feels Malfoy’s hold on his shirt getting a little tighter. Harry looks at Malfoy’s face, but he closes his eyes, refusing to look at Harry.

“Can… can you stay? Just a little bit.” Malfoy’s voice is small, hesitant. Almost like he himself doesn’t believe what he’s saying. “Just so you won’t wake me up again, you know. I need my sleep, and clearly you’re too caught on your ‘Hero’ role to let me sleep it off like a normal person.”

Harry blinks. A part of him tells him to walk away. To let Malfoy handle this on his own from now on. But… but how can he do that? He stops trying to move away, and instead, relaxes into his spot on the bed, into Draco’s touch. “Of course,” he says softly.

He feels Draco’s body relax as at least some of the tension that held onto him eased away. His fingers lighten their hold, although, Harry notes with a small smile, they don’t let go of him completely. He starts to close his eyes when he notices Draco opened his, and is now looking at him. “I will bloody kill you if you tell anyone about this.”

Harry’s smile broadens a little at this, and he moves to make himself a little more comfortable, which, surprisingly, Draco makes no moves to oppose. “Gotcha. Good night, Draco,” he says. He sees Draco’s eyes widen a bit at the use of his first name, but then he relaxes again, closing his eyes and lets out a sigh, as if the tension he’s been holding in his body eased away.

“Good night, Harry.”

The next two nights they don’t even argue about the bed anymore.

  
  



End file.
